


I'd do anything to make you stay

by shanimalew



Series: Fictober 2020 [11]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Declarations Of Love, Leaving, Multi, Other, Sad Ending, saying goodbye, sorry for all the angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26973586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanimalew/pseuds/shanimalew
Summary: “You can’t be serious. This is a prank, right?” Napoleon exclaims. He tries to sound light but every person in the room can hear the desperation hidden in his words.“I’m afraid I am terribly serious, Mr.Solo” Waverly replies.Gaby can hear the remorse in his voice, which makes this whole thing slightly better. Slightly.Their team was splitting up, and there’s nothing they can do about it.[Fictober 2020, Day 12]
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Gaby Teller, Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo/Gaby Teller, Napoleon Solo/Gaby Teller
Series: Fictober 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947211
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38





	I'd do anything to make you stay

**_Prompt 12 Angst Ending_ **

“You can’t be serious. This is a prank, right?” Napoleon exclaims. He tries to sound light but every person in the room can hear the desperation hidden in his words.

“I’m afraid I am terribly serious, Mr Solo” Waverly replies.

Gaby can hear the remorse in his voice, which makes this whole thing slightly better. Slightly.

“I tried to fight for this team, but the capital is simply not enough. Plus, Oleg reclaims Mr Kuryakin and I can’t force my hand with the Russians”

At the last phrase Illya snorts, head shaking.

It’s the most insubordinate act he has ever done, even when Waverly repeatedly told him he could relax in his presence, ‘No need to be so formal’. Gaby and Napoleon would have spared him more than a simple glance if it was another situation. But this is not an ordinary day at work.

Their team was splitting up, and there’s nothing they can do about it.

“Am I going back to East Berlin?” Gaby asks, fists clenching at the idea and heart beating faster than a drum.

“No, Mrs Teller. Each one of you is returning to their former employer, which for you is the Queen’s secret services”

She lets out a shaky breath, finding herself relaxing a little. Then, she processes the entire sentence, shaking for an entirely different reason.

“Is my agreement with the CIA still intact?” Napoleon asks, his cool facade back on.

Gaby looks between Waverly and her men, and it’s as if the first time she really sees them. They are nothing like the men she learned to know, and love, in these three years together. They look like the men she met back in Rome, Napoleon with his cool and fake relaxed expression as if he knew everything that there is to know and nothing can touch him, and Illya, who is looking at Waverly with a stoic, almost manic expression. His eyes are slightly widened, but empty.

He’s resigned and Gaby hates it. She wants to fight Waverly, to fight Oleg and anyone that wants to take those men away from her. But doesn’t know how. The Earth is too little to hide from three secret service agencies.

“Yes and I’m happy to announce that you have only two years to serve. I made an agreement with the CIA to make your years at our service count”

“Well, that is unexpected. Thank you Waverly” Napoleon says, a bit taken back by the sudden turn of events.

Illya, instead, continues staying quiet.

“Other questions? Mr Kuryakin?” Waverly asks.

Illya shakes his head, “I know what awaits me”

Gaby lowers her gaze to hide the tears forming around her eyes. He sounds like a man sentenced to death, and it breaks her heart.

Because in the end, Illya is the one who got the short end of the straw, returning to his country with no possibility of ever seeing them or contacting them.

“When are we supposed to go back to our countries?” Napoleon asks.

Gaby notices how also he avoids looking at Illya’s direction.

What cowards are they…

“A week. It was the maximum I could get”

“Thank you, Waverly. Really” she says, and she’s sincere, really, but that doesn’t help the fact that the most childish part of her thinks it’s all his fault.

“Ok, that’s everything. You are dismissed. Don’t worry about paperwork and stuff, just enjoy this week” he says, and as they get up adds, “Mr Kuryakin I need a word in private”

Illya nods and sits back down while Gaby and Napoleon look at them confused, but exit the room nonetheless.

They hove at the door, trying to get the content of their conversation but in vain.

“You know, I’ll try and visit as much as possible” Napoleon says, “I know it’s not the same but if you want, I’ll come”

“Of course I want you to visit, we will try and keep in touch. It doesn’t change anything” she replies, trying to sound sure, to comfort him and herself in the process.

“Everything is going to change. There is no guarantee that I can keep in touch and him, he’s not going to be there anymore”

She notices how he never said Illya’s name as if not naming him will change the inevitable. She would stop calling him by his name if that was even a remote possibility.

“We can establish a safe line, code messages and meet when he’s out of the URSS. There are possibilities”

“Wishful thinking, and impossible too. He can’t risk his life for us, I won’t stand for it”

“And you’d be okay with losing him forever?” she says indignant.

“Gaby, he was never ours in the first place, as didn’t we. We are propriety of our agencies, yours just gave you the illusion that you’re free, but don’t mistake it for anything other than that. An illusion”

“What’s gotten into you?” she asks, looking at him in a mixture of fear and confusion.

The man in front of him is not Napoleon, or at least not the Napoleon she loves. He’s...she doesn’t even know where to begin to describe what’s wrong with him.

However, he doesn’t have the time to answer that Waverly’s office door opens, and Illya gets out.

“Everything okay, Peril?” Napoleon asks, his usual smirk on.

She really envies his ability to put his mask on so easily. She doesn’t even try to hide her emotions, she doesn’t want to become something she’s not, not in their last week.

“Yes. Just chit chat, as you would call it. Let us go home” he says, taking both their arms and leading them outside.

The ride home is silent, too silent for Gaby’s tastes. She taps her foot in annoyance as she drives, turning on and off the radio. 

They all know it’s only a matter of entering their apartment and then she’s going to explode, so she doesn’t hide her annoyance, but it doesn’t seem to faze them.

_ As nothing does, apparently.  _

And indeed, as the door closes with a soft click, she starts shouting.

“Ok, enough! I need a reaction out of you, how can you be so okay with all of this?!”

Napoleon sighs and Gaby really wants to punch away his condescending expression. He doesn’t have the power to control her, nobody has. She will act as crazy as she wants because the only two people she loves more than anything in the world are being torn away from her and she can’t do anything about it and she is entitled to be enraged about it, and to demand the same from them.

“We are not, I am not” Illya starts, slowly walking towards her, hands in front of him.

It’s funny, seeing him trying to calm her like this, usually it’s the same gesture she does to him.

“But there is no point in fighting it”

“Why are you both so resigned? Is this not worth it?” she says, suddenly feeling all the desire to fight disappear. Her eyes start to water.

Napoleon immediately rushes to her side taking her hands in his, kissing them like a thirsty man in front of a pond.

“What we have is the best thing that has happened in my life. Working with you, living with you, loving you. All things I did not think possible for broken man like me, and I will always cherish it as the most precious thing I have. But I have duty to my country I cannot ignore, and neither can Napoleon”

“So are we going to just...accept all this and live this last week together and say goodbye forever? Without trying to plan ways to see each other or even just talk?”

She is looking right into Illya’s eyes with determination, even though she knows tears are falling.

Napoleon has stopped kissing her hands, but he has yet to leave them, resting his face on them, trying to hide from the conversation.

“You and Cowboy can, but I will not risk endangering both of you”

She feels Napoleon stiffen under her, face still hidden in her hands. She knows that ridiculous man is going to think that she doesn’t want to see him alone, that he’s just an addition to their duo. And she wants to reassure him that is not the case, but not now, not when Illya is slipping away from them.

“But if there is a way, no matter how small or impossible, to contact us, you will try it, right?”

“If it exists I will use it, I promise” he says, cradling Gaby’s face with his hands.

Only then Napoleon raises himself and looks between them uncertain.

Illya kisses lightly Gaby’s lips, thumbs catching the tears streaming down her face. She starts crying even more but she holds herself upright, trying to at least maintain her posture while her eyes betray her state.

She sees Illya’s eyes water but he immediately closes them, only to reopen them a few moments later as if nothing has happened. He turns towards Napoleon, who looks at him directly in the eyes. He’s holding himself upright too as if he’s under enemy scrutiny and doesn’t want to appear weak.

Illya does the same thing to him, he cradles his face with his giant hands and kisses him. As they both stay there, with their eyes closed, he whispers: “Everything is going to be okay”

Gaby barely manages to hold out the sob that tries to escape her lips, while Napoleon’s lower lips wobble.

“No it’s not” Napoleon replies, voice breaking on the last word.

“Yes. You both strong, and you will still have each other in some way. It will be okay”

“And what about you? Can you be selfish for fucking once?” Napoleon exclaims, gripping hard Illya’s jacket and opening his eyes.

“I will have the memories, and for a Soviet in love with a dissident and an American that is enough”

The face Napoleon makes is enough to make Gaby wish to return to a couple of minutes ago, when she was the only one freaking out.

“You are crazy, Illya. Crazy” Napoleon says, grabbing his hair wildly, eyes red like blood.

“Yes, I am. Many psychiatrists can attest it” he replies, a small smile on.

Gaby loses it. She starts punching and slapping Illya’s chest.

“Now is not the time to joke, you moron” she says, stopping only when she feels Napoleon grab her from behind. 

He hugs her, hiding his face in her neck. She feels her neck getting wet. The notion that Napoleon is openly crying stops her immediately, eyes opening wide.  As she stops, Illya takes her hands and kisses them. Then he gets closer, enwrapping both on them in an embrace, letting his chin rest on Gaby’s head.  Gaby lets her boys cry in the safety of not being seen for a while, then she clears her throat.

“That’s it” she starts, a wave of determination washing over her, “This is the only moment we will indulge in sadness, then we are going to enjoy this week. We will go out sightseeing, cook fancy dishes and have so much sex we will be sick of each other by the end of the week. All in favour?”

Illya is the first to dissolve the embrace, his thumb cleaning away some of the tears on his face and nods. After a couple of seconds, Napoleon follows, raising his head and smiling wickedly at them.

“I’m already creating a schedule in my mind” he says, adjusting his hair and tie.

Seeing them smile makes Gaby’s heart clench, but she doesn’t dismiss the sensation instead she dwells on it, living it thoroughly. She knows no one is going to make her feel this way. She knows deep in her heart that these two men are the love of her life and that no one will ever compete, so she will savour every last moment with them, every sensation they provoke.

“Well then, share it with the class” she says, going towards the sofa and sitting there, the weight of the morning suddenly taking a toll on her.

Napoleon and Illya follow, sitting next to her, as they start discussing their plan for the week.

And that’s how they spend their week. They drive to Scotland for a few days, because Illya wanted to visit Edinburgh, they eat in fancy restaurants, when Napoleon has had enough of their snarky comments about his cooking and they have sex and relax. They read books together in bed, Napoleon usually reading to them while Illya plays with his hair, they sometimes watch tv or have fun playing the commentators to Illya’s chess matches. They always make him smile, although he tries to hide it.

“Chess is serious game” he always mumbles, but they know he secretly enjoys their commentary.

They are happy. Not happier than when they did not know they had an expiration date but neither less happy because of it. They know that is their last vacation together, the last meal and the last hug but they savour it without letting sadness spill over their time. There will be a time for that, when they are in three different countries, kilometres away from each other but until then, they live everything fully, not thinking of lost opportunities or the future.  There is nothing other than the present for them.

Until they have to drive to the airport. That day the future finally catches up on them, hovering on their heads like a cloud full of rain.  The drive is silent, interrupted only by the occasional comment on the song on the radio. Each one coming to terms with the end in their own, silent, way.

Gaby focuses on driving, then she focuses on bringing them to their terminals and after that, she’s going to focus on coming home. Small tasks to distract her because she knows herself, she doesn’t cope well with things. She needs to do stuff, to occupy her mind with something other than her feelings.

Napoleon is the first to leave. They arrive up near the plane’s gate, Napoleon turning to look at them only when they see the hostess.

“That’s it, then” he says, “It was a fun ride my friends”

Gaby rushes to him, hugging him tightly. “Please, write sometimes or call, but don’t forget me” she mumbles to his chest.

“I could never forget you. I promise I’ll write you the most ridiculous romantic letters”

She lets out a wet laugh, stepping away from him.

“I love you, you ridiculous man” she says, smiling despite the tears that threaten to leave her eyes.

“Love you too, madwoman” he replies, then looks at Illya, who’s standing awkwardly near Gaby.

“Hate working with you, Peril” he continues, smiling weakly.

“You are a terrible spy, Cowboy” Illya promptly replies, eyes watering.

They shake hands vigorously, before deciding to hug. They stay there a couple of seconds, enough to whisper their real goodbyes to each other, then the hostess calls for the passengers of Napoleon’s flight and they separate.

Napoleon takes his bag and looks at them.

“See ya” he says waving, before disappearing in the tunnel.

Illya and Gaby watch his figure disappear for a few more seconds.

“Ok, let’s go. Your flight is on the other side of the airport” she says resolutely, taking Illya’s hand and guiding him through the crowd of people leaving and coming.

There is still time for Illya’s flight, so they have coffee together, nobody daring to break the silence that has formed.

_ Napoleon is gone, Napoleon is gone, Napoleon is gone _

She repeats it over and over again in her mind, trying to make sense of it. But the more she says it, the more it loses its meaning and she is left there, empty cup in front of her, trying to process his goodbye. 

“I think it is time” Illya says, leaving money for the coffee on the table and getting up. Gaby follows.

It’s quieter than Napoleon’s gate, but it was expected. Americans are always loud in their demonstrations of love, while Russians are the opposite. There are some hugs, but they are brief and professional, someone shreds some tears but it’s in a discrete way.

It makes her want to cry even more, this performative calm.

They arrive just when the hostess calls the passengers and families are saying their final goodbyes. She realises she doesn't have enough time to tell him everything she wants, to cry and make a scene.

_ Maybe he did it for her, being late, to make her suffer less. _

“Thank you for everything” he says in German, “You and Cowboy made my life better, showed me that I could aspire to love. I will always be thankful to both of you”

She hates how Illya knows how to break her with just a few words. 

“I think you are my soulmates” she continues in German, voice breaking.

It’s the first time she admits it out loud, too afraid of what they would think of the word soulmate but now, with Napoleon gone and Illya in the process, what does she have to lose?

“I know you are mine” he replies smiling, closing the distance between them, “Goodbye, little chop shop girl”

The last sentence is murmured to her lips. She closes the distance, kissing him for the last time.  She knows they agreed to zero manifestations of love in public, but she can’t leave him without tasting his lips for the last time. She wouldn’t forgive herself.

He is the one to break the kiss, he’s always the one with better self-control in these matters.

“Goodbye my love” she murmurs.

He opens his eyes and smiles at her, before turning around and going to his plane.

“I’ll try and find a way” she suddenly screams before he enters the tunnel. He stops and turns his head.

“I know you will” he replies, still smiling.

Then Illya Kuryakin is out of her visual field. Out of her life.

She waits for every other passenger to board, then she waits some more as the hostess enters the plane. She waits as she sees the plane move, then fly away.

Only then, as she is alone in the terminal, she decides to move, walking back to her car. 

If she has to tell someone how she got to the car, she wouldn’t be able to. She feels numb, walking automatically without really looking at her surroundings.

Illya would scold her, stressing the importance for a spy to always be aware of what is happening around them. But now she is not a spy, just a heartbroken woman.

She opens the car and sits down.  And then, only then, in the safety of her car, she allows herself to cry. For everything she had, everything she lost.

Cry for her lovers, because they are not going to. She allows herself to break down for them, to shred the tears society doesn’t allow men to.

She cries for her love of Illya, then for Napoleon’s and even for Illya’s love for Napoleon and vice versa.

She cries until she doesn’t know how to stop, until her body is as empty as her mind and heart are.  Then she starts the car and goes to their apartment. 

Not home, never again home.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story, sorry if it broke your heart, if it's any consolation I broke mine too while writing, but the Angst Goddess needs to be fed lol. Anyway, thank you so so much for reading and as always, leave kudos and comments if you liked it! <3


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